


how a kiss should taste

by PoeticallyIrritating



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, featuring overdue communication and everyone having a good time, in the interests of providing more porn for this pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8982379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticallyIrritating/pseuds/PoeticallyIrritating
Summary: In which they’re each waiting for the other to make a move, and Alex finally does.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Daisy" by Zedd.

Maggie starts to make a habit of showing up at Alex’s apartment on Friday nights. It’s gotten to the point that just getting out of work on Friday gives Alex a little flutter in her stomach, the kind that people apparently feel when they’re in the beginning of a relationship with someone they’re actually interested in. Who knew that romantic comedies were only lying ninety percent of the time?

She stops changing into pajamas the second she gets home from work, and comes up with a new routine: long shower, glass of wine, bathrobe that’s just on the comfortable side of sexy. Not that Maggie wouldn’t want to kiss her in her pajamas—that ship has already sailed—but she still wants to be attractive, likes having someone who she wants to be attractive _to._

Plus, maybe one of these weeks Maggie will stop treating her like she’s made of glass.

She’s trying hard not to push, because she pushed enough in the beginning, spent enough time acting entitled to Maggie: her mind, her body, her attention. She figures the best way to apologize for that is to let Maggie move at her own pace from now on, let her initiate everything.

Unfortunately, it seems like Maggie might have the same idea, because they’re about to hit week eight and—despite some inappropriate text messages that suggest she would be interested in seeing Alex naked at some point—Maggie is still groping her through her shirt like they’re in junior high.

Maggie shows up with pizza and a dimpled smile when she says, “Hello, Agent Danvers.”

“I keep telling you you’re going to have to try harder,” Alex says. “It’s not like pizza is the only way to a Danvers girl’s heart.”

Maggie smirks and sets down the box. “I hear potstickers also work.”

Alex chuckles. “With some of us more than others.”

“Then you’re stuck with pepperoni. Only two takeout places between here and the precinct.”

Alex rolls her eyes and gets out the paper plates, and they sit on bar stools at the kitchen counter. “Wine?” She holds up the open bottle and pours Maggie a glass. Then she pours herself a second one, in hopes that it will help her figure out how to talk to Maggie about this directly. You know, with words, instead of hoping it comes across in the crook of her fingers into Maggie’s belt loops.

Maggie came a little later than usual tonight and Alex’s appetite is up; she burns through three slices of pizza before she starts responding to Maggie with anything more than monosyllables.

The wine tingles in her extremities, legs buzzing and blood rushing to the surface of her skin. She watches Maggie’s lips move in that _way,_ and she murmurs something absentminded in response to Maggie’s question about how things are going at the DEO.

_Three, two, one…_ “Maggie,” she says suddenly.

“What’s up?”

“Do you want to have sex?” It feels like blurting more than any kind of seduction, and blood rushes to her cheeks.

To her credit, Maggie only startles a little at Alex’s bluntness. “Right here?” she deadpans, indicating the counter covered in grease-stained paper plates.

“I’m serious. I don’t want to push you and if you don’t want to that’s fine, but if you’re just waiting for my sake…” She trails off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

Maggie reaches out and squeezes her hand. “I wasn’t sure,” she says. “I know this would be your first time with a woman and I know that can come with a lot of…baggage. I didn’t want to pressure you into something you weren’t ready for.”

Alex shakes her head. “Honestly, this is the first time I’ve ever been excited about it. I’m almost thirty and I’ve never had sex with someone I was actually attracted to.” She blushes. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Maggie hums, letting a soft breath out through her nose. Her thumb starts to make circles on Alex’s hand, and then she looks up to meet her eyes. “So you _do_ want to go on the counter, then,” she says, and she looks so serious that it takes Alex a second to realize she’s kidding again. Alex elbows the only part of Maggie she can reach, her thigh, and then gasps as Maggie grabs and holds her wrist, gentle but firm. Maggie leans forward and kisses her, gentle and then harder, pressing her teeth into Alex’s lower lip.

“Is that a yes?” Alex murmurs when the kiss breaks, and Maggie smirks.

“Yes, Alex. That’s a yes.”

Alex is pretty sure that at that point her body temperature hikes up four or five degrees. Her stomach definitely wrenches, but more prominent is how her body feels on fire. She wants to be _touched,_ a desperate primal urge, and Maggie’s hand on her neck is too light, too gentle, not nearly enough.

“Can we—” She gestures away, not sure whether she means the couch or the bedroom or what, just somewhere that doesn’t have stools that she’s about to topple off of.

“Sure,” says Maggie, and she curls her hand around Alex’s and leads her across the apartment to the bedroom.

Alex is afraid that once they reach it she won’t know how to start again, that she’s used up all her starting power and if she loses this inertia she’ll blush and give up, and Maggie will leave. But she’s underestimating Maggie, who looks her straight in the eye as she lays her down on the bed. Maggie is on top of her, above her, really, and it’s not like this has never happened before when they were making out on the couch but it feels purposeful now in a way that it didn’t before. She maintains eye contact for just long enough that Alex starts to squirm, and Maggie hums softly and then leans down to kiss her. One of Maggie’s legs is notched between Alex’s, and Maggie’s arms were holding her up but when she kisses Alex their chests press together.

Maggie turns her attention to Alex’s neck, soft open-mouthed kisses against her pulse point. Alex’s breathing hitches and she tangles one hand in Maggie’s hair, pulling maybe a little more tightly than she should. Maggie gasps “Alex” and she thinks it’s a reprimand until Maggie says, “Keep doing that.”

However, after Maggie spends thirty seconds or so fumbling one-handed at the tie in Alex’s robe, Alex has to release her hold on Maggie’s hair to help. The robe falls away, revealing an almost-matching-but-not-quite set of underwear. “Thanks,” Maggie murmurs, and Alex floods with warmth.

Maggie sits back on her heels and watches for a moment as Alex lies beneath her, breathing heavily now. Alex tugs at her arm, her sleeve. The button-up _really_ has to go, right now. When Maggie doesn’t respond Alex wiggles her hips out from their place between Maggie’s knees and sits up to unbutton the shirt, and Maggie chuckles at her urgency but it doesn’t feel mocking.

Maggie helps her after that, smirking a little as she unclasps her bra and lets it fall away from her breasts. Alex makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a whine, and it would have been embarrassing in another situation but, god, it’s so nice to _want_ this. She wants to touch but feels hesitant, and her arms twitch at her sides until Maggie reaches out and places one of Alex’s hands on her chest.

The skin there is soft, and Alex doesn’t move for a second, not until Maggie prompts her with a nod of the head. Then she traces the underside of the breast with her fingers, circles and then runs the tip of her thumb across the brown nipple. She watches it harden, becoming more prominent as the skin of the areola pulls back.

Maggie makes a breathy little sound, and Alex looks up. “Is that okay?”

Maggie’s eyes are closed, but she smiles and murmurs, “Perfect.”

Alex traces circles the other areola, watching Maggie’s body with near-scientific fascination as she arches into Alex’s touch and twitches in frustration as Alex’s finger gets close to the nipple but never touches it.

When Alex finally rolls it between her fingertips, Maggie gasps. “Wow, Alex,” she breathes, and Alex glows warm with satisfaction.

After another moment, Maggie stills Alex’s hands with her own. She kisses her on the lips again, more urgently this time, and presses her back down against the bed. Maggie is insistent, firm, and something about Maggie makes Alex feel like it’s all right to go pliant in her grip: no fighting, no resistance, just relief.

She can still help, though; she arches her back to unclasp her bra and tosses it to the side of the bed. Maggie kisses down her chest and smiles at the freckles on her breasts, closes her mouth around one of her nipples and presses just slightly with her teeth.

Alex thinks she’s seeing stars.

Maggie’s hand palms one of Alex’s breasts as she kisses down the length of Alex’s stomach. The area is sensitive; when Maggie kisses a spot by her hip she jerks upward so hard that a woman with more limited reflexes than Maggie might have received a facial wound. Maggie just grins, and strokes the skin of Alex’s thighs with her fingertips.

Alex is hot and wet between her legs and Maggie can definitely tell, is definitely teasing on purpose. She peppers kisses, barely more than pecks, across the skin of Alex’s inner thighs, and Alex sighs into the air. She hardly knows what to do with it, this kind of wanting.

Maggie kisses through her underwear at first, hot wet kisses, the limited friction between fabric and skin practically unbearable. Her hips press up, seeking more pressure, more sensation, and she can feel Maggie’s smile against her as she presses back down with flat palms on her hips.

Finally—finally—Maggie draws the underwear down her thighs. Alex complains wordlessly when her legs become restrained by the fabric between them, and Maggie obligingly pulls the underwear all the way down and tosses it aside. She draws herself back up, pressing a few cursory kisses to Alex’s thighs before she puts her mouth on her.

Alex gasps at the feeling, her already-heightened nerves on overdrive now. It’s overwhelming, not just the stroke of Maggie’s tongue at the juncture of her thighs, but the feeling of getting something that she’s wanted this much and having it be _good._

Maggie’s hair keeps falling in the way and Maggie murmurs “Hold my hair back” with a comforting firmness. She pulls herself together enough to move Maggie’s hair out of the way, and holds tight.

Alex’s eyes flutter between open and closed, alternating between wanting to watch and being unable to keep them open. Maggie’s hands are firm on her hips now, holding her down despite her straining upward, and Maggie’s tongue is careful and determined but slow, methodical. It’s not so much teasing as drawing her up and up until she’s drawn taut like a string. Every muscle tense, she jerks at the slightest touch of Maggie’s mouth (tongue, lips), and then when Maggie finally pulls her over the edge, tongue flicking across her clit, Alex cries out as her body trembles.

When it’s done, she collapses on the bed: limp, breathless.

Maggie kisses her inner thigh again, chastely this time. “Good?”

Alex chuckles, smiling, eyes still closed. “So good.”

Maggie crawls up the bed to lie beside her, propping her head up on her elbow. “So what do you say, Danvers? You out for the count?”

Alex smirks without opening her eyes. “Five minutes and I’ll give you a run for your money.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More of the same, but with more praise kink because of who Alex is as a person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just discovered another similar fic titled with the same lyrics so I'm deleting myself for being unoriginal

When Alex feels like she can peel herself off of the bed, she slowly sits up and then turns to Maggie. “So,” she says.

“So.” Maggie’s sitting too, topless but still in her jeans. She crooks a smile.

“Tell me what to do,” says Alex.

Alex watches Maggie sink her teeth into her lower lip, then suck in a breath. “Take off my pants.”

Alex unbuttons the jeans and Maggie lifts her hips to help her pull them down. They catch around her heel but Alex manages to get them off, and she’s been so focused on the task at hand that after she drops the pants onto the floor, the expanse of Maggie’s skin catches her by surprise. Her breath catches somewhere in her chest and her heart _thump-thump_ s. She reaches to touch almost reverently.

She’s not sure if she’s quite prepared to take off Maggie’s underwear, and Maggie doesn’t tell her to. Instead, Alex settles herself on her knees straddling Maggie’s legs and strokes her thighs, tracing lines across her skin. She watches for breathing changes, and the flutter of eyelashes that means she’s hit a sensitive spot. The skin of Maggie’s inner thigh, just by the line of her underwear, is velvety smooth. A little higher, hair grows out past the bikini line and Alex touches that, too, tracing the line of the underwear.

Maggie reaches out for Alex’s chin and pulls her in for a kiss: hot, wanting, aching. When she pulls back Alex switches (maybe abruptly) to Maggie’s neck. She bites down experimentally—hard, apparently; Maggie hisses and her nails dig hard into Alex’s bare back in a way she might not hate. She tries it again on the same spot and Maggie _moans._ Her body arches toward the sensation, and Alex sucks harder, digging in until she’s afraid it’s too much. She pulls back to see the impressions of her own teeth in Maggie’s skin, and a faint purple mark forming on the surface. “Sorry—” she begins to say, but Maggie cuts her off.

“Do that again,” she says, low.

The satisfied warmth fills Alex’s chest again. She chooses a spot on Maggie’s left breast, and she palms the right one as she bites down on the tender flesh. Maggie’s hips roll up as Alex sucks a new mark into her skin.

Alex pulls back, right hand still stroking Maggie’s breast, rolling the nipple between thumb and fingertip and pressing down. Maggie looks up, right into her eyes, and says, “Touch me.” And she settles back against the pillows, waiting.

Alex’s face flushes hot, but she reaches down almost on reflex. She strokes through the underwear at first, up and down against damp fabric, and Maggie hums her satisfaction and praise. She wants to feel for real, though, and she rolls the underwear down Maggie’s thighs just far enough. First she feels for the wetness, uses her fingertips to drag it upward like she’s used to doing for herself. With the pad of her thumb she feels out Maggie’s clit, slippery now, and Maggie’s whole body jerks when she brushes it.

Alex freezes, then. It seems like she should know what to do now, like it should be obvious. She knows what _she_ likes but she doesn’t know what Maggie likes and she’s afraid, suddenly, to move.

“Alex,” says Maggie, “What’s up.”

Alex huffs out a breath of embarrassed laughter. “I don’t want to—to do something wrong.” Maggie is still looking at her curiously so she takes in a deep, steadying breath and then says, “I don’t want you to feel like I used to feel. With men.”

Maggie’s smile is full, dimples and all. “I promise, nothing you could do would make me feel like _that.”_ Her eyebrows quirk. “I used to sleep with men too, you know. I know that brand of uncomfortable. But…I’m always happy to give more direction.” She winks.

Alex’s shoulders sag with relief. “Please.”

It’s immediate. “Start with two fingers—just—not too far in at first.”

Alex enters Maggie with just the tips of her fingers, enough to tease but not to do much else.

“Try to keep contact with my clit, with your palm or your other hand.”

She sounds almost detached, carefully guiding Alex through a procedure like she’s a particularly patient tutor. Alex tries to grind against Maggie with the heel of her hand but the angle is awkward so she uses her left thumb for pressure as Maggie guides her to slide her fingers farther in. “Curl them up, to— _there.”_ The last word comes out in a sharp breath out, and Alex likes it, knowing that she’s doing something right enough that Maggie loses her breath. She tries it again, straightening her fingers and crooking them into a J again, and Maggie’s eyes flutter closed for a moment. “Good,” she breathes. She reaches out and holds onto Alex’s hips on either side. The effect is steadying, and Alex breathes better, in and out. “Now—more pressure on—” Maggie trails off because Alex anticipates her instructions and grinds rough circles on her clit, doing her best to ignore the rush of heat between her own legs. Maggie stops trying to direct. Her eyes close and her hands tighten on Alex’s hips, her body tensing and relaxing with the strokes of Alex’s fingers. Watchful, Alex catches when she starts building to an orgasm and increases the pace and pressure. Her hand is cramping but Maggie is shuddering before her and it’s so, so beautiful, and she moves her thumb on Maggie’s clit in steady circles: Maggie sags against the bed and her hips jerk over and over until she grabs Alex’s hands and holds her tight by the wrists, murmuring, “Enough.”

It takes a moment, but when Maggie opens her eyes again, unfocused, they settle on Alex’s face. “Good girl,” she murmurs, and Alex’s body shudders in response.

She tries to grind down instinctively but there’s nothing there, just the empty space between Maggie’s thighs, and she’s aching for contact—for any pressure at all against her swollen clit. Her hands are trapped in Maggie’s grip and she rocks her hips against nothing.

“You did so good,” Maggie says again, soft.

Alex whines, a desperate sound that she’s surprised to hear from her own mouth. She tries to change position, to straddle one of Maggie’s legs so she has _something,_ but Maggie’s hands at her sides are effectively blocking her movement. It’s almost painful now, the throbbing between her legs. “Maggie—” she starts to say before cutting herself off; she is absolutely not going to beg.

Maggie surveys her for a few torturous seconds and then says, low, “Don’t move” before she releases Alex’s hands.

It’s all Alex can do not to touch herself, but she holds her arms still by her sides. Maggie reaches up, drags her nails slowly down Alex’s stomach, and Alex moans softly. Her fingertips trail through hair and then, when Alex feels like she might pass out, Maggie just barely touches her clit and her whole body shakes as she comes apart. She grips Maggie’s thighs for support and gasps through the aftershocks that course through her as Maggie’s fingers move against her.

Her muscles lose any strength they had left, and she drops her head forward in exhaustion. Maggie’s strong, warm hands guide Alex to lie against her chest, and she runs her fingers through Alex’s hair.

“Jesus,” Alex says, muffled.

She feels the chuckle in Maggie’s chest. “You doing all right, Alex?”

Alex smiles against Maggie’s skin, and she murmurs “yes” before she falls asleep.


End file.
